


MacArthur Park

by RogueTranslator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advice, Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Lunch, Post-Canon, Preemptive Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTranslator/pseuds/RogueTranslator
Summary: When it comes to her favorite human, Amara doesn't have time for her brother's melodramatic ending. She has even less time for being blown up by the other two primordial entities. Deciding enough is enough, she puts a stop to all the nonsense and gives Dean a second gift, hoping to do better than the last time. All she asks is that the two of them get together once in a while to catch up.A couple months after what was supposed to be The End, Amara whisks Dean away to their first lunch date. His anger and suspicion aren't fully gone, but she thinks he's doing better than before. And maybe that's all anyone can ask for.
Relationships: Amara & Dean Winchester, Implied Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester - Relationship, pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: The AO3 SPN Kink Meme





	MacArthur Park

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [theao3spnkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theao3spnkinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> I'd like to get Dean bonding with someone (could be anyone, but I prefer a minor character here! Think Jody, Donna, Charlie, Claire, Victor, ... Mick?)  
> Does not have to be canon compliant at all - for me, the characters do not have to have met on screen!
> 
> Any character can be present but bonding should be focused towards Dean and another character.  
> Please fill this as a Gen fic (no relationship or only background relationships)!
> 
> (Crack fillings are accepted. Look, if you want to write about Lucifer and Dean bonding over some niche interest, sure. Just keep it gen please)

“Okay.” Dean peered up at the cloudless June sky. “I’m, uh, I’m ready.”

He looked around, expecting to feel the stomach-dropping, bowel-plugging zap of teleportation any second now. When it didn’t come, he started pacing in front of the bunker’s entrance, his hands on his hips.

“Making me wait,” he muttered. “Typical chick.”

There was a rush of cold around his neck, the blotting out of every speck of light in his field of vision. He blinked; when he opened his eyes, he was standing on a downtown sidewalk in a city he didn’t recognize, under a neon sign flashing a bowl with chopsticks and some squiggly hot pink lines.

“Hello, Dean.”

She was sitting on a bench just inside the vestibule, the door to which was held open to the afternoon by some invisible force. Appropriate, Dean thought, to the indolent heat in the air, she wore a mango-colored sleeveless blouse with matching palazzo pants. He sighed and walked up to her.

“Looking good,” he said.

“Thank you.” She scanned him up and down. “You, on the other hand, could’ve put in more effort.”

Dean thumbed his purple flannel shirt. “This is new, thank you very much.”

“Try taking some tips from your pet angel. His suit’s always immaculate.”

“He’s not—” Dean bit his tongue and pointed to the door of the restaurant. “You want to go in?”

She held out her hand; Dean rolled his eyes but helped her up. The maître d' showed them to a table at the side of the restaurant, next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the avenue.

“You’re wearing cologne,” she noted, without looking up from her menu.

“I didn’t feel like hearing complaints about my ‘musk’ again.”

“I’m omnipotent, dear. Cologne doesn’t stop me from smelling what’s underneath. Just like your duplicity didn’t stop me from knowing what you really had planned the last time we met at a restaurant.”

Dean lowered his menu. “We’re already going there?”

“Eh. Let’s order first.”

Dean decided on the beef bulgogi. He didn’t know what Amara was getting since she ordered for them in Korean, indicating Dean when she said the only word he recognized.

“Why do that?” Dean said, once the waiter left. “We in Korea?”

“No, we’re in Los Angeles. I just choose to speak the language that whomever I’m ordering from is most comfortable with. It usually makes them happy.”

“Yeah, you’re a real humanitarian.”

“Stop pouting already. It’s tedious.”

“Come again?”

“You won, Dean. No more worrying about my brother, about Death and the Empty. Sam’s safe. I even brought that angel back for you. And you still won’t drop your grumpy old man routine.” She shook out her napkin and laid it over her lap meticulously. “I’m starting to think you don’t _want_ to be happy.”

Dean opened his mouth before realizing that he didn’t have a comeback. He raised his water glass to his lips instead.

“Do you?” she said, after watching him drink for a few seconds. “Want to be happy?”

“Like it’s that freaking easy.”

“Easy?” Amara shrugged. “I don’t know about that. But if I can spend the entire history of the universe locked in a cage and still find a way to become the better me, I don’t see why you can’t.”

“Well, good for you. Go start a lifestyle blog and hawk face cream and yoga pants. Better use of your time than making me come to these lunches with you.”

They didn’t speak until the waiter returned with a large platter and a dish of dipping sauce. Amara picked up her chopsticks.

“Leek pancake,” she said. “Have some.”

Dean hesitated, then speared one of the slices with his fork. He hadn’t had breakfast, and he preferred eating to talking anyway.

“You still don’t trust me,” Amara said.

“Why do you care whether I trust you or not?”

“I’ve done a lot for you, Dean. All I ask is that we get together from time to time. Catch up with one another.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Dean exhaled. “You know what? You’re right.”

“About?”

“Maybe I just don’t know how to be happy.”

She finished chewing. “Then keep trying.”

“Maybe I’ll—” Dean chuckled. “Maybe I’ll take up a new hobby. Watercolor. Crochet.”

“Why not?”

“That’s what Sam’s doing. He started writing a book about our lives. Not like anyone would ever publish it, but—” Dean brought another piece to his mouth. “He figures our side of the story should be out there.”

“For posterity?”

“Yeah. And Eileen’s his editor. Gives new meaning to ‘Man and Woman of Letters,’ I guess.”

“I’d read that story. Can’t be any worse than what Chuck came up with.”

Dean snorted. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“How about the rest of your family?”

“Cass, uh. Cass set up a garden in the pump room, where it’s warm. We rigged all these big lights above the plant beds. It’s growing pretty well. Sam’s happy, obviously, since he has endless salad on tap.”

Amara smiled.

“Now Cass’s new thing is bees.”

“Bees?”

“He brought in bees to pollinate the plants. I told him we’d put them there on a probationary basis. Still not sure I want a beehive in the bunker.”

Amara sipped her water. She raised her eyebrows when Dean made eye contact.

“Jack’s, uh—I don’t know. He’s not around much.”

“Heaven keeping him busy?”

“I guess. He visits every couple weeks or so. Cass takes him to the arcade, the movies.”

She nodded. “You don’t join them?”

“Sometimes.” Dean sat back in his chair. “Sometimes.”

“You still bear anger towards him.”

“No, I’ve—I’ve forgiven him. As much as I can.” Dean shrugged. “What can I say, I’m just a grumpy old man.”

The waiter brought their food to the table. Dean hunched down to sniff the sizzling steam off the earthenware slab.

“What’d you get?” he said.

“It’s a cold kimchi noodle soup.” She turned to face the lazily oscillating fan in the corner. “I’m trying everything on the menu eventually.”

“Hey, we both love eating.” Dean spooned fluffy mounds of rice onto his plate. “I always liked that in a woman.”

Amara laughed. “Do you remember when we first met? How I said we’d end up together?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean shifted in his seat. “Kind of hard to forget that.”

“I feel embarrassed looking back on it. I cringe, actually.”

“Wow. Thanks for that.”

“You know what I mean. We were never meant for each other in that way. But I still care for you, Dean. I want you to be happy. I want you to find peace.”

“Like when you brought my mom back?”

“I told you, that was about giving you what you needed. What you needed to finally be free.”

“Free,” Dean scoffed.

Amara twirled her chopsticks in her bowl of noodles and said nothing.

“And what about Cass?”

“Castiel? What about him?”

“You brought my mom back to teach me some—some bullshit lesson. Why’d you bring Cass back? What lesson is it this time?”

“What makes you think there is one?”

Dean flicked his hand in exasperation. He gathered up another bite of beef and rice.

“What’s so hard to understand, Dean? I care about you; I want you to be happy. You aren’t happy without him.”

“Uh—”

“Why that is…that’s for you to figure out.” She slurped her noodles. “I’m the last person you should go to for advice about that kind of thing.”

“‘That kind of thing?’”

“Am I wrong? Are you happier without him? I could always send him back.”

“No!” Dean cleared his throat. “I mean, no. You’re right. I want Cass around.”

“You need him around.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean frowned. “I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. The ulterior motive. Because if this is all just some galaxy-brain test, you can go screw yourself. We’ve both been through too much to get jerked around by another cosmic dick.”

Amara lifted her spoon and broke up the boiled egg at the rim of her bowl into smaller pieces.

“Maybe that’s the lesson,” she replied. “Maybe that’s the test.”

Dean rubbed his face. “This is like talking to a Magic 8-Ball.”

“I don’t have the answers you seek. I never have, Dean. Only you do.”

After Amara paid, they lingered in the vestibule. The breeze in from the street billowed the bright folds of her pants.

“Walk with me for a bit, Dean.”

“Okay. Not like I have much else planned today.”

They strolled several blocks in the dry warmth. Amara preferred the sunny side of the street, which Dean made a joke about. They passed one park and approached another. The palm trees seemed to rise higher and higher the further they went.

“MacArthur Park.” She linked her arm through Dean’s. “Let’s go around the lake. I like to see the swans.”

They ambled down the slope, started a loop around the water. The swans washed and fluffed their feathers along the shore as Dean and Amara passed.

“Such beauty.” She stopped to watch a pair of them rub their necks together. “What he made still amazes me.”

“You know, they partner up for life.” Dean coughed. “Sam told me that once, I think.”

“I did know that.”

“What about you?”

Amara glanced up at him. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Dean nudged her shoulder. “We both know it’s not me, but…I don’t know. You ever think of—”

“Of finding my swan?” Amara turned back to the water. “I don’t know. That’s so human.”

“Swans do it.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

The swans floated away, out to the center of the lake. Amara creased her forehead and looked at Dean again.

“ _You’re_ the one who’s thinking of it.”

“What? No.”

“You’ve forgotten that I can see inside your heart.”

“Doesn’t make you right about it. We were just talking about how you got things wrong back then.”

Amara released his arm. “Go, Dean.”

“What?”

“Go home. Go to who makes you happy. Whatever that means to you.”

She touched his shoulder; the last thing he saw before feeling himself move was the glow of the afternoon sun in her hair. He opened his eyes to the bunker’s hallway. After a few seconds to get his bearings, he made his way down the corridor, tapping his fingers into the wall for purchase.

He reached the junction to the kitchen. The other fork led to the rooms deeper in, and after a few seconds he followed it down towards them.

The wall got warmer at one of the rooms near the end. Dean stood up straight, feeling steady again, and reached for the door handle. He heard the humming of grow lights, the droning of bees, the familiar footsteps.

He was home.


End file.
